


Knight of Hell

by Trekiael



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Cas, Demon!Dean, M/M, s10 Specualtion, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekiael/pseuds/Trekiael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a last resort to save Dean, Castiel finds himself on a crossroad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight of Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carrionofmywaywardson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionofmywaywardson/gifts).



Leroy absentmindedly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth before pushing the heavy wooden door open. He dragged himself to the occupied table and dropped into the chair in front of the man already there, busy nursing a glass of whiskey. Without asking, he snatched the bottle and poured himself a glass in an empty one laying there.

 

“So? What's the word?”

 

Leroy took a long shot from his glass and sighed. He finally raised his gaze to meet the one of the other man. Yassin looked casual, unworried under his cold façade. His dark, calculating eyes abserved him carefully. He was particularly good at scanning lies, and Leroy knew that damn well.

 

“Mei Li was right.”

 

Yassin nodded and leant back in his chair.

 

“Things are gonna change I guess. How is he?”

 

Leroy snorted.

 

“What the fuck do you think? Same godamn asshole as before, except now he's got the fucking power to back himself up. Not that he wasn't godamn dangerous before...”

 

Yassin hummed and traced his pointer finger over the rim of his glass.

 

“And? What's his purpose? Which side is he on?”

 

Leroy looked incredulously at him.

 

“Side? Dean fucking Winchester never had a fucking side. He only cares about his stupid brother and his fucking angel. He'll kill anything that gets in his way. If you think that becoming a demon was gonna change that, you're having wild dreams, man.”

 

Yassin frowned a little at that. Without answering, he grasped his glass and brought it to his lips. Leroy sighed again.

 

“You'd think that him becoming a demon was gonna finally make things easier for us, but a Knight of Hell with the First Blade that can't stand demons? Yeah, we're totally screwed.”

 

“And you tried to fight him despite this?”

 

Leroy grimaced, glancing down at his almost torn arm. Then he smirked, albeit a little bitterly.

 

“Well, you know me, I couldn't not check it out for myself. Damn, that fucker seriously kicked my ass.”

 

“And what does he want? To be the King?”

 

Leroy paused, frowning.

 

“...I'm not sure. That guy is seriously hard to understand. He doesn't seem to mind all that much Crowley being the King, but he's totally bossing him around. So I don't know.”

 

“Oh, I sure do.”

 

Leroy and Yassin turned to look at the newcomer. She was rather tall for a chinese girl, all decked in leather and heavy make up. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, fingers drumming against the slide of skin exposed.

 

“Yo, Mei.”

 

She smirked and approached. She stopped by their table and stole Yassin's glass.

 

“There's one thing Dean Winchester wants. The same thing he's always wanted, but never allowed himself to get until now. The one thing he spent one year in Purgatory killing everything in sight to get.”

 

Leroy's eyebrows raised while Yassin nodded sagely.

 

“Castiel.”

 

**

 

The wind was chilly. The fact that Castiel was even able to feel it spoke loudly about how little power he had left. Little power he fully intended to use to save Dean, no matter the cost.

 

It had been 4 months since Dean had turned into a demon, the First Blade bringing him back as one after Metatron killed him. At first, Dean had tried to act like it didn't change anything. He was different from other demons on many levels after all.

 

For a while, they had worked together, all three of them, until a solution was found.

 

For a while, Castiel had let himself hope.

 

But obviously, things were never easy in their lives and Dean had grown more and more violent,, angry, and caring less and less about the lives he saved and more and more about the killing itself, to the point of disregarding completely other people's safety and whether or not he was killing monsters. He restorted to torture when it was needed. At first. Then only because he wanted to. Until the day he tortured a witness, that he merely suspected was hiding something.

 

This had been the point break. Castiel and Sam had tried to convince Dean not to take any case from now on, until they could cure him. But he had told them to 'fuck off' and disappeared. Since then, Sam and Castiel had tried to find him, tracking him down as they new he was still taking cases and leaving a bloody trail after him.

 

Castiel's strength was growing thin, fact that he kept to himself but suspected Sam knew, and he needed to find a solution fast.

 

Angels were, unsurprisingly, useless. All they could see was a threat that needed to be eliminated, and kept on insisting for Castiel to let go of him, telling him he was blind to believe that there was still a part of Dean under it all. Castiel didn't care, and, not for the first time, chose Dean over Heaven.

 

Mind whirling, Castiel crouched. The ground was still a little warm from this afternoon's sunlight, and dry from a long time spent without any rain. His fingers curled, digging out a handful of dirt, until he had a hole big enough to drop the metallic box in. He covered it again and stood up, brushing his hands clean.

 

Summoning hadn't worked. Tracking him hadn't worked. Nothing Castiel had tried, and he had tried a lot, had worked. So this was his last resort.

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

Castiel's shoulders tensed, and he whirled around. He hadn't expected this one. He probably should have, but he hadn't mean to summon Dean himself. Actually, he was relieved. It made things much easier.

 

“Dean.”

 

“What? How cold. Where's my 'Hello, Dean.'? Come on, Cas, I missed it.”

 

Cas straightened up and tried not to look affected. Dean's eyes were full black. He wasn't even trying to pretend anymore. And with each word coming out of his mouth, he had taken a step closer. Now, they merely stood a couple of feet apart.

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean grinned. He blinked slowly, and his eyes turned back to their original colour. A bright green that Castiel had grown accustomed to. He closed the space between them and took Castiel in his arms, hugging him tight. Too tight. Castiel's breath was stuck in his lungs. He tried not to panic as he felt Dean turn his head and breath in deep before whispering in his ear.

 

“Heya, Cas.”

 

For a reason he couldn't quite explain, Castiel felt himself flush. It was a strange reaction from him, especially in Dean's presence. He was relieved when Dean let him go and took a step back.

 

“So... What's up with the summoning?”

 

“Why are you the one answering it?”

 

Dean blinked, then slowly smirked.

 

“Oh? Didn't mean to call me, were you? Of course I asked every crossroad demon to let me handle the summon if you were the one doing it.”

 

Dean sounded casual enough, and his eyes were still green, his smile still bright, but Castiel wasn't fooled. There was something dangerous about the way Dean was speaking. Something was wasn't quite a threat but still had Castiel feel in his bones. And he was an angel, albeit a poor excuse of one. In four months, Dean had grown into such a great Knight of Hell. If it wasn't such a bad thing, Castiel would have complimented him on it. As it was, he was simply not really surprised.

 

“Earth to Cas. I know ya missed me but that ain't no reason to let yourself be blinded by my presence. I'm busy ya know?”

 

“Busy how?”

 

Dean shrugged.

 

“Well, it's a mess down there, gotta sort it out a bit. That bitch really fucked Hell up.”

 

“Isn't that Crowley's job? Are you working for him?”

 

Dean snorted and tucked a hand in his jeans pocket. His eyes weren't on Cas anymore, but on the red lines painted directly on the road, uncaring.

 

“Hardly. But hey, if I'm gonna call it home, better make it comfy. And that means getting rid of the pest and the roaches first.”

 

That was self-explanatory. Castiel didn't really need to think about the number of demons that had already fallen under Dean's blade.

 

“Anyway, I ain't there to chat about me. You summoned me, or, you summoned a crossroad demon. That means a pact. What do you want?”

 

Castiel hesitated. Dean was obviously trapped, but he didn't act like he was worried. Castiel wasn't sure he could demand anything from him. On the other hand, this was his last resort.

 

“I want you to come with me and let yourself be detained until we find a cure.”

 

Dean's eyes flashed black.

 

“No, Cas, that's not how we're gonna play it.”

 

Castiel straightened his back and clenched his teeth.

 

“You are trapped, Dean. We are 'gonna play it' as I want to.”

 

The next thing Castiel knew, Dean was behind him, one arm around his shoulders his lips right by his ear.

 

“Cas, Cas, Cas. Always so trusting. You're a good strategist, sure, but you should know I'm really good at catching my preys.”

 

Castiel knew, of course. He also knew that he wouldn't let Dean out, no matter what Dean did to him. He opened his mouth to tell him as such, but he heard a scratching noise and looked up, frowning, in front of him. He saw something small, moving at fast speed in their direction, scratching the earth.

 

“I know what you're thinking. But I don't really need you to get out of here. I've got the most faithful pet ever.”

 

And Castiel could see it now. Slicing through the ground like butter, not even stopping once it reached the outer line of the devil's trap. Dean's free hand slowly outstretched and the First Blade, having utterly destroyed the trap, jumped in it like it was where it was meant to be. Castiel heard Dean make a noise of pleasure when he was reunited with the cursed object, and his shoulders slumped, as if that small noise had been the sound of the blade jumping into Castiel's heart instead.

 

Dean didn't move. He brought the blade up, tracing Castiel's jawline softly with the blunt but lethal edge, all the while teasing his lips over Castiel's ear. This proximity, this... flirtation, was unerving. That was a big change from the Dean he knew, who always hated the way Castiel invaded his personal space, unless it was for brief hugs.

 

“Alright, enough playing. Tell me about the deal you wanted to make.”

 

“None. I intended to force a demon to tell me about your location.”

 

Dean hummed, as if considering this, and traced over Castiel's Adam apple next.

 

“No deal? What about making one with me?”

 

Castiel stiffened.

 

“What kind of deal?”

 

Dean finally let him go and walked back around until he was facing him. He looked at him straight in the eyes for a while, then let his own trace down his body, and then back up to his eyes.

 

“That stolen grace... It's drying up. You're gonna die.”

 

“This doesn't matter.”

 

Castiel never saw the burst of power coming, and was instantly knocked out of his feet, flying farther away, body halfway in and halfway out of the trap. Dean stood over him, looking seriously angry.

 

“Of fucking course it matters you stupid moron!”

 

He was grabbed by the front of his shirt and pulled up, until he was standing in front of Dean again.

 

“One year.”

 

Dean blinked and relaxed his grip.

 

“What?”

 

Castiel squared his jaw and raised his chin.

 

“During one year, you are not to kill anyone, and I do mean anyone, or anything. Long enough for Sam and I to find a cure.”

 

Dean snarled.

 

“Fuck you and your fucking cure.”

 

Dean let go completely, grimace nasty. But then he smirked.

 

“One year, yeah?”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

“Fine. But once the year is over, you're mine. And I don't mean your soul or whatever angels have for soul, or your grace, or whatever, I mean you, trench coat and all. You're coming to Hell with me.”

 

“Alright.”

 

There was no hesitation for Castiel. If he failed to save Dean, then there was no reason for him to struggle with life anyway. He was dying. He was always prepare to die, but this time, he knew this wasn't going to change. He only wished he could use the last of his powers well.

 

“One thing, though.”

 

Castiel frowned, but listened.

 

“If your grace is about to dry out, you gotta summon me right away. In exchange, I'll come so you can test your cure on me any time you sommon me. Deal?”

 

Again, there was no hesitation.

 

“Deal.”

 

Dean smirked. His eyes turned black again and suddenly, there was something very predatory in his stance. He stepped closer, and closer, until their chests were pressed together.

 

“We gotta kiss to seal the deal, Cas.”

 

It was surprising of Dean to remind him of it, and Castiel felt suddenly a bit nervous. Still, he nodded, and closed his eyes.

 

The first brush of lips sent a tingle down his spine. A firmer pression made the breath catch in his throat. But then Dean's hand was in his hair, forcing his head back, and his tongue was in Castiel's mouth. It was a real, deep kiss, entirely unnecessary and very filthy. Castiel's heart pounded in his chest. He felt dirty. Even more so when he realized he didn't hate it as much as he would have liked to.

 

His lips were swollen when their lips finally parted. Dean smirked, winked, and disappeared. Castiel closed his eyes.

 

**

 

It happened 7 months and 3 weeks later, in the middle of July. Sam and Castiel had tried everything they could think of and come up with, spending restless nights doing research, not even taking cases anymore. Sam didn't know about the deal, but under Castiel's impulse, went along with the tight schedule.

 

They summoned Dean 8 times. Ever single time, Dean mocked them, and bickered with Sam, who was looking more and more desperate. After the 6th time and yet another failed attempt, Sam had even tried to make a deal with Dean. Dean had promptly smacked him out cold. Even as a demon, he was not letting Sam die uselessly. If it wasn't so worrisome, it would have been touching.

 

Dean kept to his word. He spent his time with Cain, away from Hell, letting Crowley take care of it as the King. Both Heaven and Hell were getting back in order, and things were almost back to how they were before the very beginning of the Winchesters adventure.

 

The spell was a disaster.

 

Castiel crawled on the concrete floor, almost blinded by the etheral flames, towards Sam's prone body. He coughed up blood once he was beside him, and raised a shaky hand. There was no doubt about it, and he closed his eyes, accepting his defeat with a bitter feeling in his throat. He traced the summoning spell in his own blood right as his hand connected with Sam, healing him with the remains of his grace.

 

He screamed silently as his entire body was torn, the grace leaving his body clawing it on the way out. But right before he died, he saw Dean standing above him. He was holding something in his hand, something blue and warm-looking and familiar. Castiel thought he was dreaming, but as the vial was opened and poured down his throat, there was no room left for doubt.

 

His body arched from the floor, a light more blinding than the one of the flames exploding as his grace, his own grace, that Dean somehow managed to get, found its way home.

 

**

 

100 years passed. Sam had long since then died and gone to Heaven. Earth had undergone many wars, many changes. Other great things happened, but none as big as what was known as the Winchesters Era. Heaven, Hell and Earth were still standing. Still at constant war.

 

It had not taken 100 years for Dean to break Castiel into perfect submission.

 

The day Dean had come back down to Hell, with his angel at full power, every demon had shrieked in indignation. Many had tried to take the both of them down. But Dean had not let any of them touch a single hair on Castiel's head. And even if Castiel was perfectly able to defend himself against demons, Dean had a point to make.

 

After a while, demons had stopped caring. Castiel, the Angel in Hell, was an odd thing, but their vision of him changed from fear and hatred to pride (as, after all, their Knight had an angel at his mercy), and, for many, desire.

 

Dean wasn't really the King of Hell in title. The title of King, he said, generally meant a lazy fat dude that let others do the dirty work while he spent his days eating and fucking. It suited Crowley much better. Dean much preferred the title of Knight, which showed strength, courage, and glory.

 

In facts, though, he was Hell's ruler. Crowley, as Dean was strangely fond of him, was his right hand man. Crowley came up with the plans, kept things in order, was old and wise and the perfect advisor for Dean. Dean was observant, and ruthless, cruel even, but strangely fair. And fucking unbreakble. Fearless and fearsome.

 

100 years after Castiel was brought to Hell by Dean, Dean sits on his throne, made from skulls and bones in the shape of a throne from that TV show that he enjoyed all these years ago. Castiel, as his prided pet, kneels by his side, on his velvet cushion, eyelids heavy from Dean's hand scratching his skull gently.

 

As usual, Castiel is decked in the outfit Dean picked for him. Today, he's wearing all black leather. Hot pants, knee high boots and an underbusk. His pierced nipples are chained together. His blue, silk panties are showing from above the waistline of his hot pants, and, in the back, covering his ass where the big hole in the middle of the hot pants doesn't. But this is hidden by the trench coat that he's always wearing, as per Dean's orders, as if to mock him. To complete the outfit, he's wearing a sturdy collar around his neck, with a big loop in front of it to which is attached a leash, securely held in Dean's hand all time of the day.

 

“Cas, Angel, I'm feeling cold.”

 

Castiel doesn't need to ask what Dean wants. He knows by now. He doesn't even blink as he turned his head until he can nuzzle Dean's crotch briefly. He knows not to use his hands, only his teeth, to open the fly of Dean's pants, and with nose and mouth, work his way until Dean's cock is out, and resting in his mouth, kept warm. Castiel lets his cheek drop on Dean's thigh and obediently sits still, only very, very softly sucking on Dean's cock, as a child would suck its thumb.

 

The demon that was doing his speech pauses and stares. Castiel ignores him, but Dean doesn't. He has been getting on his nerves for well above 10 minutes, and Dean's patience is running thin. The demon is obviously a cunning bitch trying to get into Dean's good graces and replace Crowley. Obviously that kind of guy would stop at nothing for power. Obviously he would very much like to be the one sitting in Dean's place with the sexiest angel sucking on his prick.

 

Dean smirks.

 

“Cas. I think this gentleman would like to have a taste of you.”

 

Castiel blinks, his large, focus blue eyes falling on the demon staring steadily at him. Slowly, he straightens up, letting Dean's cock fall from his mouth wetly, uncaring about the trail of saliva on his cheek. He stands up. Dean's hand lightly traces up his leg, stopping once it reaches his inner thigh to squeeze the flesh gently. He drops the leash. Castiel takes it as his cue.

 

Walking down the few steps, he brings himself closer to the demon, Leroy, he heard. His two friends, that Castiel recognizes at Yassin and Mei li, two demons Castiel already caught staring at him hungrily once or twice, stands beside him. Castiel stops right in front of Leroy, so close to is face he can feel his unsteady breathing fanning over his face.

 

Pressed against his hip, Castiel feels Leroy's erection.

 

Without taking his eyes from Leroy's face, Castiel brings his hands up until his palms cover Yassin and Mei Li's faces. Their screams of pain are ignored. Once their bodies drop to the floor, Castiel cups Leroy's face, who is shaking.

 

“Please....”

 

Castiel shakes his head sadly.

 

“My apologizes. I belong to Dean. You are not worthy of looking at me.”

 

Leroy goes down with a scream right after Castiel delivers the words Dean taught him. Leroy's body drops as well, beside the others. Castiel watches him for a second, then turns on his heels, walking back to Dean. He drops back on his knees and sighs as his lips find the warmth of Dean's cock once more, finding it harder than before, probably from watching Castiel kill.

 

Dean chuckles.

 

“Come on Angel, enough cockwarming, get to work.”

 

Castiel doesn't need to be told twice, and with a deep moan of pleasure, takes Dean all the way down his throat, swallowing around the head. Dean reaches above the armrest for Castiel's back, sneaking under the trench coat to trace the laces of the underbusk over his spine. Once it reached his lower back, Dean taps gently on the slice of bare skin.

 

Castiel understand instanly and crawls under the armrest until his chest is on Dean's thigh, never letting the cock down his throat slip out of it. Access made easier, Dean traces the crack of Castiel's ass through the panties, through the hole in the hotpants. Castiel moans.

 

“That's right. I didn't fuck you this morning. You want my cock in your tight ass, right?”

 

Castiel nods and sucks harder, his tongue moving relentlessly against the hard shaft filling his mouth. Dean chuckles and gently tugs the panties to the side, until the access to Castiel's hole is uncovered. A finger immediately pushes in, making Castiel moan loudly.

 

“Right. Unplugged today too. You're lubed, though. You really want my cock.”

 

Castiel nods again, pushing back against Dean's finger as it starts thrusting in and out.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for, Cas?”

 

Castiel doesn't need another invitation. He scrambles to get up and straddle Dean's lap. Reaching under himself, he grasps Dean's cock and angles it until it's pressed against his entrance. He lowers himself, the cock sliding in easily, and sighs in deep, deep pleasure.

 

“That's right Angel, try to cure me from the inside.”

 

After 100 years, Castiel knows there's no way he will ever be able to cure Dean. Still, he rides his cock hard and fast, holding him tight inside his body, a part of him still hoping that the deeper Dean gets, the more chances he will have to touch Castiel's grace, and have his soul washed of its sins.

 

When Dean comes, it's with his teeth in Castiel's throat, his claws in his hips, his seed deep, deep inside Castiel's body. And as Castiel comes, untouched but with his prostate pounded so hard he almost passes out in extasy, he knows that the deeper Dean reaches inside of him, the more his grace is the one to get corrupted.

 


End file.
